The Stone Carver
Rested upon their backs
A burden of memories
They traverse a river of tears
Seeking his skilled hands
To memorialize the fallen one
He is the Stone Carver
Silently, the artisan listens
As their story unfolds
laced in anguish
For the one now forever gone
Taken from them in a distant land
Draped by an emerald jungle
Rugged mountains
Or blankets of sand
Fighting for freedom
A sacrifice too young
The carver bids them farewell
As their story ends
Sitting at his workbench
His artistry begins
Calloused hands touch a canvas
Of white granite stone
Hammer and chisel carving each letter
Declaring the name of a hero unknown
Droplets of sweat and forlorn tears
mingle with dust
Recalling the names
Of the ones carved over the years
Never has he seen their faces
Or heard their call
Chiseled into his heart
The reason they fall
Toiling beneath a yellow light
Sounds of silence fill the night
As the name of a hero is given life
Eternally ascribed on a field of white
He is the Stone Carver
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